


candied peel

by spilled_notes



Series: December of Drabbles [7]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:29:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9007315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: It turns out that Bernie doesn't like mince pies - unless they're made by Serena, that is.





	

‘Mince pie?’ Morven asks, holding the packet out to Bernie.

‘Oh, no thanks.’

‘Come on Bernie,’ she coaxes. ‘It’s Christmas, one pie isn’t going to do any harm.’

‘I’m fine, Morven,’ she says with a tight smile. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to–’ she gestures with the files in her hand and walks away.

‘Not a fan?’ Serena asks, sidling over, arm lightly pressing against hers.

‘Can’t stand candied peel,’ Bernie admits. ‘Vile creation, lurking to surprise the innocent consumer. Don’t know why people insist on using it. What do you make of this?’ she asks, pointing to her iPad.

Serena looks at the scan but her mind is already filling with a plan and she smiles to herself, ignoring the questioning tilt of Bernie’s head.

*

The next morning, Serena removes the lid from a tin and places it on Bernie’s desk with a flourish, catching at her hand and squeezing gently in greeting. Bernie peers inside to find a dozen homemade mince pies, topped with pastry stars and lightly dusted with icing sugar.

‘You know I don’t like them,’ she mutters, embarrassed.

‘Ah, no,’ Serena corrects her as she hangs up her coat. ‘You don’t like candied peel – and there’s none of that ‘vile creation’ lurking in here.’

Bernie looks at her, disbelieving.

‘My mother’s recipe,’ Serena explains, sitting at her desk and logging on to her computer. ‘I didn’t want you to feel left out.’

Bernie looks down at the pies, then back at Serena, still speechless.

‘Just don’t tell the others,’ Serena smiles. ‘Or they’ll all be expecting homemade.’

It’s only 8am, but Bernie selects a pie and cautiously takes a bite. The pastry is crumbly and buttery, the filling sweet, spicy, and tart with apples – and blissfully free of candied peel – and she can’t keep a faint moan from escaping her throat.

‘Well?’

‘Delicious,’ Bernie grins. ‘You know, this is the only mince pie I’ve ever enjoyed. Marcus’s mother used to get terribly upset if I refused hers, which of course meant Marcus got upset, so I’d eat one to keep the peace.’

‘None of that now,’ Serena says warmly, firmly. ‘No pretending.’

‘No,’ Bernie agrees, knowing they both mean far more than just lies about food preferences. ‘But you do realise I’ll be expecting this every year, don’t you?’ she teases.

‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ Serena smiles, heart swelling at the thought of many future Christmases spent together.

*

By the end of the day there are only two pies left in the tin. Serena refrains from passing comment, just smiles and resigns herself to spending more time than anticipated in the kitchen. Not that it’s a hardship, not really. Especially not if it means drawing that delightful little moan and brilliant smile from Bernie again.


End file.
